


The Hobbit: A Rather Different Tale To The One You've Been Told

by Top_Hatted_Octopus



Category: Fallout (Video Games), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Alternate Universe - Human, BAMF Bilbo, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Top_Hatted_Octopus/pseuds/Top_Hatted_Octopus
Summary: (Very) Loosely follows the Hobbit's basic storyline. However, instead of Middle Earth, it's set in the post nuclear war Fallout (Video Games) Universe.Please see beginning chapter notes for more detail as to what to expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I may have lost my mind. As it says in the summary, this story (very) loosely follows the Hobbit's basic storyline. However, there are a few rather significant changes... 
> 
> Firstly: This is a human AU set in the Fallout (Video Games) Universe. The Hobbit cast will feature primarily (if not entirely), but there will also be - heavily altered - locations, landmarks, etc from both Fandoms merged into one.  
> Secondly: I have yet to play Fallout 4, so this AU is set in the Fallout 3 Universe...there will be a LOT of notable changes (serious warning to be taken if you are a major Fallout fan), but the monsters will be the same...more or less. Warnings for the Hobbit fans: The characters and 'storyline' are movieverse and I made Bilbo just a little more waspish (courage waspishness), and a little more bad-ass.  
> Thirdly: As you will read, the beginning of this story does not begin with Bilbo joining the Company, but already a part of it.  
> And Lastly: This story is rather...well, shall we say 'experimental', crack taken seriously if you will. 
> 
> Reviews and criticism, etc are always welcome and appreciated. So without further ado, I present to you - The Hobbit: A Rather Different Tale To The One You've Been Told. 
> 
> ...But seriously, I may have actually lost my mind - just a little bit.
> 
> Enjoy :-)

Another bobby pin broke. The fifth one in his limited supply. “Oh, for fuck sakes.”

“Keep your voice down.” Dwalin hissed. “Or do yer want ta attract every feral ghoul in this Mahal forsaken place?”

Bilbo slanted a look at his – er...friend? No, companion was a better word. “You could always do it.” He huffed, knowing full well that the other man wasn't at all adept in the art of lock-picking.

Dwalin's glare was the only answer Bilbo got before he returned his attention to the open door, keeping watch for any unwanted 'guests'.

“I thought not.” Bilbo muttered, inserting a new pin into the lock above the tension wrench and twisting experimentally.

_Almost there...almost...ha-_

“How much longer is this going ta take?”

_SNAP._

“Would you shut up and let me concentrate!” But the venom in Bilbo's voice was severely diminished by the fact that he was whisper-shouting.

Inserting the six – no, seventh bobby pin, Bilbo glared at Dwalin to keep his yap shut, jamming the torch between his teeth for better light.

Apparently seven times was the charm and, after a few moments of fiddling, the safe finally clicked open.

Bilbo eagerly yanked the door open, and...

It was empty.

“Well, that was a waste of time.”

Bilbo had to physically clench his fists to prevent overwhelming urge to punch the taller man.

Praying to any god that would listen for patience, he made a mental note to throttle their illustrious leader as soon as they returned to camp.

Why Thorin thought it had been a good idea to send him and Dwalin out looting together in the first place was anyone's guess.

“Thank you for that statement, Captain Obvious.” Bilbo gritted, rising to his feet from the grubby floor and dusting himself off.

“Don't yer be getting smart mouthed with me, laddie.” Dwalin growled with narrowed eyes.

Bilbo merely rolled his own and began packing away his tools.

“Right then,” He said once finished, giving his dirtied trousers another fruitless swipe. “shall we be off?”

Dwalin grunted his assent and headed into the even darker – and danker - corridor beyond the Security Room.

Ah, the Metro was a lovely place. Practically like home these days.

Well, on second thought, perhaps that was a little over-exaggerated. “Er...did we come from the left or the right?” Bilbo asked, a touch anxiously, as he caught up to Dwalin and where the man waited diligently for him. Glancing side to side, Bilbo couldn't tell one way from the other.

The other man snorted, a suspicious curl to his lips, before he marched right, leaving Bilbo to follow in his wake.

Left they came. Right they went; continuing their hunt.

Both men remained silent as they picked their way through the Metro's rubble strewn tunnels and paused only when necessary to ferret supply's from long forgotten personal effects or, even worse, rubbish bins.

Bilbo would resolutely forget all about these little 'dumpster diving' sessions as soon as he was a respectable distance from them...and more so once he'd scrubbed his skin within an inch of it's life.

Soon the endless corridors opened out onto the Metro's deserted rail tracks and Bilbo wasn't sure if this made him feel more or less uneasy.

It wasn't as though he had never been to any of the Metro Station's before, but the others had been considerably smaller either through build and/or tunnel collapses. This one was one of the largest intact Metro's, and in the very heart of the city no less. Bilbo couldn't help but feel much like a very small worm on a very big hook. One twitch was all it would take for a fish to take the bait. There was a reason places like this had a reputation.

...Perhaps Dwalin wasn't such a bad companion after all...

A sudden echoing shriek had both men freezing, rifles drawn and safety off without either giving a second thought.

“Was that a...” Bilbo didn't want to finish the sentence, rather afraid of the answer.

“Ghoul.” Dwalin spat, ever the reliable bringer of good news.

Bilbo sighed rather dramatically. “Wonderful.”

The bigger man made a slashing motion then, none to kindly telling Bilbo to ' _shut up'_.

For once, he listened.

Of course, their silence only made the ghoul's shrieking that much more echoey and terrifying – at least to Bilbo – and he unashamedly inched towards Dwalin. At the very least, the other man would get eaten before he did...

Several other shrieks joined the first, and Bilbo felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. Well Shit.

“What should we do?” He whispered furiously, ignoring Dwalin's glare to be quiet, too busy gazing anxiously into the gloom ahead. “Should we hunt them down?”

Slowly, Dwalin turned his head and he pinned the smaller man with a look that spoke volumes.

“What?” Bilbo sniffed, somewhat offended. The idea wasn't _that_ stupid. He'd much rather bring the fight to them than be hunted by a pack of crazy irradiated non-humans.

“Sometimes I wonder.” It was muttered so softly, accompanied by a small shakes of his bald head, that Bilbo almost didn't catch it. But he did, and his eyes narrowed accordingly.

He had just opened his mouth, biting retort at the ready, when the tunnel was filled with more than one of those hair-raising shrieks. And it sounded like they were getting closer – much closer.

Naturally his companion chose that moment to simply stand there. Not doing _anything_.

“Er, Dwalin?”

As if snapped from a trance, the other man quickly grabbed Bilbo's arm and hauled him down the tunnel as fast, and as quietly, as they could go. Thankfully, in the opposite direction of said crazy non-humans.

Unfortunately for them, the ghouls seemed to have cottoned onto the fact that there were tasty morsels floating about their – cough – home and were apparently in pursuit – if the increasing urgency and volume of those rasping screams, and the scratchy thudding of footfalls, were anything to go by.

If Bilbo were to hazard a guess, he'd say there were...oh, about a hundred of them. Well, a dozen really, but that didn't mean he felt any less terrified.

In fact, he almost cried in relief when Dwalin spotted a service entrance – one they had obviously overlooked on their way past - and all but manhandled him inside, slamming and locking the door behind them.

Bilbo stood panting for a moment, adrenaline singing the rhythm of _fight, flight, fight, flight_ in time to his heartbeat.

A few moments later there was a loud bang, followed by another, then another, and he stepped back, rifle raised, prepared in case those accursed _things_ actually managed to break through the solid metal door.

It was at times like this – note, when his life was in danger – that Bilbo wondered whether he'd made the right decision in agreeing to follow Thorin in his ridiculous quest to reclaim his family's mine; Erebor.

After all, he'd been perfectly safe at home in his little, relatively secure, community – well as safe as one can be living in a post-nuclear wasteland were one could be ambushed by raiders, radscorpions, feral ghouls, mirelurks, mole rats – _breath_ – deathclaws, bloatflys, and all manor of horribly irradiated beings. But no, he'd chosen to follow a man, one that he hadn't even known all that long, on a march across the county, and all because of a sob story...

Before the nuclear war that had destroyed most of the planet, Erebor had been a thriving mine, churning out metals and precious gems alike. Post war, the mine, and it's ever reaching depths, had acted as a shelter for people seeking refuge. Surprisingly, it had managed to do just that, and had survived the fallout with very little casualty. Years and years and years later, it had become a safe haven, a hive teeming with life as more and more people arrived seeking shelter. And Erebor had provided without restraint.

But eventually, as word spread of all that the mine had to offer, it wasn't just the innocent that longed for her embrace.

Smaug, a notoriously cruel raider, and his band of equally vile companions sole into the mine and took it for themselves. Thorin, only a small boy at the time, had watched his grandfather die that day.

Now, years later, Thorin planned to retake Erebor with his strongest and most skilled men and return her to the safe haven she was meant to be.

...Granted, it was a very good sob story. Honourable in fact. Which was why Bilbo had found himself offering his help in the first place.

It had _nothing_ to do with the fact that Bilbo was absolutely _not_ just a little bit in love with Thorin. Nope, not at all. But, Bilbo would admit – at least to himself – that Thorin had the bluest eyes he had even seen, and a mane of dark hair that just begged to be touched.

Okay, so what if there was just a little bit of lust going on? Lust was not love, and Bilbo definitely _did not_ love Thorin. At all.

Apparently gearing up for another one of his internal arguments, Bilbo was grateful when Dwalin's restless form came into his line of sight and bought him back to awareness of their current predicament.

The other man was obviously tense, and he shifted from one foot to the other, hands repeatedly flexing around his rifle.

Watching this bought Bilbo's own anxiousness to the forefront of his mind once more and he eyed the door with trepidation. Apparently, the ghouls hadn't given up in their attempts to break the door down.

After several increasingly strained moments, Dwalin finally relaxed, albeit minutely, and muttered; “Come on. Let's get out of this forsaken place.” before turning on his heel and stalking further into the service tunnel.

Bilbo felt his shoulder's sag and he sighed in relief, following him without argument.

Just for this unnecessary scare over his life, Bilbo was seriously going to throttle Thorin, _twice_.

 

\- O -

 

“Well I must say, I think this was one of your greatest ideas yet.” Bilbo's words positively dripped with sarcasm and Dwalin turned on him, chest puffed out and face growing red in anger. In fact, he rather resembled a mad brahmin – and a second head would have been the cherry on top.

“Oh stuff it.” Bilbo snapped before the taller man could actually say anything in retaliation. “Now then,” And his words suddenly sounded calm, curious even, as his waved his gun in a general forward direction. “would you care to tell me what _the fuck that fucking_ thing _is?!_ ” That last part? Yeah, not so calm, borderline hysterical really.

The thing in question was probably one of the most hideously mutated – _living_ believe it or not – mass of moving ick that he had ever had the most unfortunate pleasure of meeting...so to speak.

And yes, he blamed Dwalin for this most enjoyable experience. Service tunnel? _Ha!_ More like mutant infested hell. In fact now that he thought about it; yes, he decided he'd much rather face a whole room full of ghouls.

“That? Fuck knows how it got down here, but that's a centaur.”

Bilbo's surprised laugh was more a sob-like squeak. “Let me tell you something, that doesn't look like no god-damn centaur I've ever read about.”

“Then I guess yer never seen one.”

And Bilbo did not like his condescending tone one bit. However, there were more pressing matters to deal with – like the rapidly approaching monstrosity that had tentacles coming out of places he really didn't want to think about. “Is it killable?”

Dwalin gave a long-suffering sigh before he opened fire without any warning at all.

To Bilbo's abject horror, the bullets seemed to do little in the way of slowing down the creature and, instinctively, he raised his own rifle to give the beasty something else to chew – because his ass certainly wasn't on the menu tonight.

Two guns definitely seemed better than one, and Bilbo was just feeling the first waves of triumph when the centaur's skin rippled, both unnaturally and alarmingly, before it suddenly exploded.

Bilbo could only stand there in stunned silence - a feat he would soon learn from - because not a moment later, he found himself literally covered head-to-foot in mutated guts.

Eyes pealed so wide they started to water, Bilbo could only stare straight ahead, utterly frozen, barely even registering that he no longer pressed the trigger.

Despite his ears ringing from the gunfire, Dwalin's sudden booming laugh seemed almost too loud, and Bilbo jumped, nearly dropping his gun.

Of course fucking Dwalin was laughing, he'd ducked behind Bilbo and the git didn't have a single spot of goo _anywhere_ on him.

“Oh yeah,” He wheezed between guffaws. “I might have forgotten ta mention that they tend ta do that.”

...When they finally returned to camp sometime later, Bilbo stiffly – and with as much dignity as he could muster - ignored the Company's snickering questions and open-mouthed stares. Embarrassed and disgusted though he was, it was with no small amount of smug satisfaction that Bilbo knew Dwalin's black eye would shine for days.

 

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo, unfortunately, did not throttle Thorin as he'd promised himself. He did, however, argue with the stubborn man until blue in the face over the ridiculously high – and entirely unnecessary – dangers of the downtown D.C area (aka: hell).

When he awoke the next morning, he was relieved to find that some of his 'reasonings' must have sunk into Thorin's thick skull, because the Company was moving on as soon as everyone had packed up their belongings.

Naturally however, getting out of the city turned out to be harder than getting in and after cutting through the ghoul infested nightmare that was Chevy Chase Metro, the Company found themselves in a gun-blazing showdown against a group of raiders that had made camp on the Metro's doorstep – ironically called Friendship Heights.

“Blast it.” Bilbo grouched, yanking his arm back behind the safety of the wall and reloading his handgun, which had clicked to empty _again_. 

“Master Baggins?”

Bilbo ignored the bullets whizzing over his head and looked up to meet Thorin's gaze, one brow raised questioningly.

“How many rounds do you have left?”

“Er...about forty-eight, I think.”

Thorin cursed. “We're running low on ammo. We need to flush them out – quickly.”

Bilbo snorted, firing blindly over the wall. “Tell me something I don't know.”

Before Thorin could open his mouth, to no doubt retort with a snarky remark, there was a whistling-like woosh and Bilbo found himself suddenly flat on his back, Thorin's heavy weight lying flush on top of him.

Moments later came the sounds of an explosion several hundred yards away.

“Thorin,” Bilbo's voice came shocked and breathy in the sudden silence. “they have a missile launcher.”

“Tell me something I don't know.” Was the wry reply, and Bilbo pointedly refused to shiver over the gravelly voice spoken directly into his ear. Honestly, there was a time and place for such things, and this was certainly neither.

“Oof!” Bilbo huffed, trying and failing to shove Thorin's weight off him. The other man paying him no attention, hand's moving swiftly as he shared signed words with Dwalin across the way.

“Oh do get _off!_ ” He hissed, by now thoroughly annoyed as the sounds of gunfire resumed around them. 

Finally, Thorin rolled off of him and Bilbo scrambled for cover over by the Metro's escalator; a bullet streaming past his ear to thump into the mound of rubble near where they'd just been laying.

The rest of the Company – thankfully unharmed – were on the move too, forming a semi-circle around the raider's camp and sheltering behind what little cover there was.

As it so happens, it was then that another missile was launched and as the Company ducked, every one of them, including Bilbo, missing the raider sneaking along the side of a low wall.

Bilbo's notice of the approaching danger came in the form of a shadow, but it was too little too late, and with an outraged squeak, he was hauled to his feet and the barrel of a gun thrust beneath his chin.

“Drop your weapons,” The raider, apparently a female, snarled. “or the little-one gets it!”

_Little-one?_ Bilbo thought indignantly. He may be the shortest member of the Company, but he wasn't  _that_ small, thank you very much. 

From his vantage point, Bilbo could now see that there were five raiders and  _really_ , five against fourteen should not have been so difficult a number to overcome. But, he supposed, they did have the advantage by way of better cover and that blasted missile launcher. 

From where he stood as hostage, Bilbo could also see the glowering look Thorin bestowed upon him and he matched it with an accusatory glare of his own, pointedly ignoring how his heart beat faster with fear.

Thorin would surely leave him to die, Bilbo was certain. He may have joined the Company because of his slight frame, small enough to fit between debris the rest of them couldn't, small enough to fit between the cracks in Erebor's stone so that he could scout out the mine and report back to Thorin on the inner workings of Smaug's take over. But, the Capital Wasteland had an abundance of people who were born shorter and thinner than the rest, finding someone to replace him couldn't be that difficult, or time consuming. So no, he had no doubt that Thorin would allow him to die.

But, as Bilbo prepared for his untimely demise, he found himself sagging with open-mouthed shock – and no small amount of relief – as Thorin grudgingly lowered his rifle to the ground.

 

\- O -

 

Above the raider's camp stood an enormous glass and metal awning and to Bilbo's dismay, quickly found out that the structure had more uses than a simple shelter.

Bound to one of the tall pillars, he could only look on in sympathy at the red-faced Company and where they had been hung, ankles tied, upside-down.

Unusually silent since their capture, it came as absolutely  _no_ surprise that it was Dwalin who spoke first.

“Well, this is just grand.”

Bilbo ignored him in favour of watching a male raider and where he sat, meticulously sharpening a set of already vicious looking knives and eyeing the Company with something akin to hunger.

Of course Bilbo had heard the stories, even encountered a few raiders in his life, but he had never been captured by one. Looking at this raider now, he came to the stomach-churning realisation that perhaps the cannibalistic tales where true.

Fighting a wave of nausea he looked away, but the sight of a large cooking pot slowly roasting over an open fire wasn't any better.

Further across the camp, the heavily muscled, mohawked female who'd first grabbed Bilbo was playing some type of card game with two other male raiders. At their sudden and violent shouts, he guessed that they'd lost against her.

Bilbo swallowed thickly, now that the game had ended, it seemed that they were turning their attention onto other matters, Company-like matters.

The female raider was laughing as she approached the Company, prodding Bombur sharply with the baseball bat she held. “We'll feast tonight. Grab the fat-one.” She sneered and the two males she'd played cards with came forth.

Thorin and the other's snarled wordless protests, twisting and wrestling within their bonds.

As they simply wriggled, swinging back and forth, Bilbo knew it was hopeless. They would not get free. Not to mention that with all the blood rushing to their thick heads, it was unlikely any of them would be able to think of a clever escape plan –  _ah_ ...

“Ah-hem.” Bilbo cleared his throat, but he was either ignored or not heard over the Company's big mouths – now outright shouting threats as Bombur's rope was cut; the large man falling unceremoniously to the ground.

“Excuse me!” He near shouted, as the two male raiders began to drag Bombur away. “I don't think you'll want to be doing that – if you know what's good for your health.” He added, somewhat desperately, noticing that he now had the mohawked female's attention.

“And why's that?” She sneered – apparently her favourite expression.

“Er...b-because he's...ah...irradiated. _Yes!_ Completely irradiated. And I, er, can't imagine that eating someone who's irradiated would be an entirely wise idea.” He finished weakly, and rather lamely. 

Quick as you like she held up one fist, and the two raiders dragging Bombur immediately stopped.

“Irradiated?”

Was that a flash of concern on her face? Bilbo certainly hoped so. “Yes! Yes. Horribly irradiated. Fatally so.” He said quickly, nearly tripping over his words as he thought on his feet.

The two raiders holding Bombur dropped him as if he were a poisonous snake and backed away.

“I-in fact they all are.” He shuddered for effect. “It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't.”

Blessedly, the Company did not protest his words and he only spared them a moments glance before realising he was being watched by the female...leader?

“Irradiated you say?” She turned towards him completely now, crossing one arm beneath the other and stroking her lips, looking at him consideringly. “So if we cannot eat them, what do you propose we do with them? Let them all go?”

Bilbo fought to keep his face even. “Well...”

Her eyes narrowed suddenly and dropped her arms, fists clenching. “You think me dumb, little-one?”

“What? No-”

“I know exactly what you are up to.” She turned to the other raiders. “This ferret is taking us for fools! Kur! Terrill! _Get your good-for-nothing arses back here and grab this hunk of meat!_ ” Then she kicked Bombur hard in the side before turning back to Bilbo, a cruel smile on her face. “We will cook him and eat him, and if you don't keep your mouth _shut_ , we will feed him to you too.”

Bilbo felt sick and could only look on helplessly as Bombur was dragged away once again.

“Sick! You're all sick!” Someone yelled.

“I hope you burn in hell!” Growled another.

“You-you-you _trolls!_ ” And that had to be from sweet little Ori.

“I'll spit on your grave-” Definitely Dwalin, who was interrupted by Thorin.

“ _Don't you touch him, you-!_ ”

But Thorin never got to finish, the sound of a shotgun being fired drowning out his words and echoing around the raider's encampment.

The mohawked female dropped to the ground – dead. Her chest a bloody mess of flesh and metal fragments.

No one had time to react before another shot rang out, and the raider closest to their dead leader fell equally as fast.

The last three raiders stood shocked for several moments before they reached for the closest weapon; Bombur quickly dropped and forgotten were he lay.

However, while the raiders had been frozen in their shock, the unseen shooter had had time to reload and two more quickly met the same fate, the third dead almost as fast from a single neat shot to the head.

Bilbo stared wide-eyed at the carnage, not even able to muster any form of panic before a well recognised figure walked smoothly into the raiders camp.

With a long grey beard and head of hair to match, the man stood tall; his handgun gripped firmly in one gnarled hand, while his shotgun smoked softly in the other.

“Gandalf.” Bilbo sighed in relief.

“My dear boy, it seems I came in just the nick of time.”

 

\- O -

 

After being untied, Bilbo went to help Gandalf cut down the rest of the Company – not an easy task seeing as they were all in a rather foul mood and being dropped on their heads made them even more so. Bilbo did, however, take great pleasure in cutting Dwalin loose and watching the man curse and struggle in his remaining bonds upon the floor.

Thorin seemed particularly pissy as he rounded on Gandalf, the last, and recently absent, member of their Company. “And where did you go to, may I ask?”

Gandalf merely looked on him with something like amusement. “To look ahead.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “And what bought you back?”

“Looking behind.” Now their was definite amusement on his withered face. “Nasty business, still you're all in one piece.”

Thorin's look darkened. “No thanks to Bilbo.”

“Oi!” And Bilbo didn't bother to hide the fact he had been eavesdropping, instead stomping angrily over to the duo.

“Come now, Thorin,” Gandalf said in a calming, yet reprimanding sort of tone. “at least he tried to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.”

Bilbo only barely managed to refrain from glaring at their leader, instead folding his arms across his chest until Thorin gave a nod of acknowledgement – barely there, but still a nod nonetheless.

“Right then,” Gandalf said.” now that that's settled, shall we see what these unfortunate raiders left behind?”

Bilbo grinned. Looting without a single bin in sight? Now that was a happy day indeed.

And the missile launcher?

He was calling dibs on that.

 

To be continued...

**Author's Note:**

> So...how people feel about it so far? Like it? Hate it? Feel free to tell me what you think, just please bear in mind that this is entirely an AU story. ENTIRELY.
> 
> Also, please note that updating may take a little while, but that's mainly due to the research needed (playing and watching again and again) and also work commitments, life, etc. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
